


The Hunters

by TheLOAD



Series: Hunters AU [8]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLOAD/pseuds/TheLOAD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Ryan had taken the throne, he was a Hunter. This is the story of how it all happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little prologue, the next chapter will have more meat to it. And will probably focus on Ryan.

Geoff was a bundle of excitement when it came time for him to be assigned a mentor. Two years he had spent in basic training, two years he had spent honing his skills, and now it was time for the seven year old to move on to the next stage in his training. There wasn't a ceremony, though in Geoff's mind there may as well have been. When Dexter Grif and his leader Sarge of Red Team had come into the trainee's tent and asked Geoff to follow them, it was all he could do to keep from bouncing in delight. He followed them quickly, biting his knuckles to keep from giggling with excitement.

Red Team had three fully realized members, Sarge, Grif, and Simmons, and two in training members, Donut, who was training under Simmons, and Lopez, who was training under Sarge. But they were both nearly fifteen, and soon both would be ready to complete their own Hunts. When Sarge told Geoff that he was to train under Grif the little boy squealed in delight. His first act as an apprentice would be to stay watch over Red Camp that night, to make sure that the rival Blue Team didn't try anything funny, Sarge explained. Everyone knew that the Reds and the Blues, though technically allies, were almost always trying to show one another up, to prove which was the best team. Though at the same time people usually argued that the best team was The Freelancers, who, though a team of Hunters, were only loosely associated with one another and tended to accompany the other teams on missions. They were arguably the best warriors, but being a Hunter meant being part of a team, so in Geoff's young mind they fell short.

That day sparked Geoff's life as a member of a team, and despite training under a man who could arguably be considered the laziest Hunter to ever live, Geoff grew up with an odd sense of duty. Oh for sure he could be lazy himself, at least that's what many who met him thought. But there was something else behind those deceptively sleepy eyes. Geoff was a leader, through and through. He just needed a team of his own to lead.

When Geoff was twelve a young boy named Jack Pattillo joined the Hunters. He wasn't anything special, just the son of a local blacksmith, but his parents had seen great potential in their son, and so had called upon The Hunters to take a look.

No one fully understood how The Hunters selected those who would join their ranks, not even The Hunters themselves. They just knew they had a feeling, which they attributed to The Tower. And when Red Team had answered the call to investigate Jack, it was Geoff who felt the strange tug in his stomach. The rest of the team had been willing to pass Jack up, claiming the boy and his father both seemed too gentle hearted, but Geoff had argued that Jack should be allowed to join, that he had a feeling about him.

If you asked Geoff years later about that day, he'd claim it was probably the best gut instinct he had ever had.


	2. Fresh Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to baby Ryan. This story takes place a while after chapter one, but I wanted to get some of Ryan's story in. Everything will line up again eventually.

Ryan woke up when the ship stopped moving, or at least when it stopped sailing. It still bobbed up and down in the water. Stretching in his hammock, he laid there for a moment, letting the weight of what he was doing settle down upon him. He was only sixteen, barely a man in most kingdoms, and yet here he was, across the sea from his homeland and family, about to create a new life for himself. After a moment he lifted himself up and off the hammock, stepping down onto the floor of the deck. He gathered his belongings, a few clothes, some food, and a pouch full of coins, and headed up to the top of the ship, blinking in the harsh sunlight. He looked around the dock, which was far more crowded than the one at home, having a substantial city built around it while the one back home was little more than a fishing village, and gave a low whistle, adjusting the bag on his back as he walked down off the ship. His stomach felt like it was flipping itself inside out and his heart fluttered in his chest as he looked around, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. He had never done anything other than work on his family's land, at most he would run some errands for his neighbors, and he had certainly never been to a city before. It was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

"Hey!" A voice shouted, startling him from his thoughts. He turned around and came face to face with a large horse, which huffed at him and pawed the ground. Ryan blinked at it for a moment before looking up at the driver of the cart, who was looking down on him with a scowl. "Get out of the damn road, kid." Ryan stepped back, clearing the street.

"Sorry," he said, offering the man a friendly smile. The man just looked him over, his eyes lingering on Ryan's kilt, before starting his cart again, muttering something about outsiders. Ryan frowned and continued on his way, now suddenly aware that people were eyeing him. He went directly to the nearest inn, suddenly more interested in just getting settled than he was in exploring the city.

"How long are you staying?" The innkeeper asked, giving Ryan the same look that everyone else had. "And you mind if I ask where you're from?"

"A week," Ryan said, taking the amount of of his bag. He figured a week would be enough time for him to find himself a job, and he could see if he had a place to live or not after. He raised an eyebrow at the second question, though. "I'm from Jorgia," he said. "It's a kingdom across the sea. Uh...how does everyone know I'm not from here?"

"You're dressed weird," the man said, taking the money and handing Ryan a key. "You talk sort of weird too, but mostly it's your skirt." Ryan frowned, looking down at himself.

"It's not a skirt," he said. "It's a kilt. It's the traditional garb of my people."

"Looks like a skirt to me," the innkeeper said with a shrug. "I never said it was a bad thing, just different."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ryan said, taking the key and heading for his room. He sat down on the bed for a moment, his mind racing, before he started to pack his things away. It hadn't occurred to him that Nyntando would be so different from Jorgia, and that his clothing would mark him as an outsider immediately. A small worry appeared in his mind; what if this made it hard for him to find employment. He had enough money to last him a little while, and he supposed he'd be able to find odd jobs here and there. But without a steady source of income he would be in trouble. Once he was done packing he decided to seek out employment at once. There was no use in wasting any time. He could always explore the city later, once he was more settled, or while he searched for a job.

He asked the innkeeper first, figuring it couldn't hurt. But the man just shook his head at Ryan, cleaning a glass.

"Got no openings," he said, giving Ryan an apologetic look. "Sorry kid. I'll let you know if there's any errands you can run for me, though, if it comes to that."

"Thanks," Ryan said, pushing away from the counter. It was far from perfect, in fact it was close to the worst option, but it was still better than nothing. It could buy him a little more time, at least. Leaving the inn Ryan turned down the street, looking for any shop or business that looked to be hiring.


	3. The Hunt

"You're going to need to do your Hunt soon, Geoff." Geoff turned and looked at Jack before shrugging.

"I'll get to it." He looked away and frowned, however, because he knew the boy was right. He was fifteen and getting older. If he didn't complete his Hunt before he turned sixteen he'd be seen as a failure. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the eight year old shake his head, so young and yet already tired of Geoff's bullshit.

"And I thought Grif was the lazy one," he said. "I'm going to have to talk to Sarge about you."

"Don't you dare, Jack!" Geoff said, but Jack had already walked away. Geoff groaned, praying to every god he knew that Jack wouldn't talk to Sarge.

\--------

Of course Jack did talk to Sarge, much to Geoff's dismay, and Sarge agreed completely that Geoff needed to get his ass in gear. The first step was being tossed into The Nether alone with the instructions to kill as many Pigmen as he could and harvest their gold. Which, if he was being perfectly honest, and there was little reason for him to lie to himself, was the main reason he had been putting it off. The Nether was horrifying and the Pigmen were just as bad as one would expect decomposing, misshapen porcine humanoids to be. The noises they made were chilling and horrific, and if they mobbed you they would rip you apart and eat you alive. Geoff could deal with having to hunt down whatever the gods had chosen for him. What he couldn't handle was this.

No one cared how he killed the Pigmen, so he walled himself up in a cave and shot at them from a hole in his makeshift wall. They tried to mob him, multiple times, but he just sank back further into his cave and stabbed at them with his sword whenever they got too close. After about an hour or two the group of fifteen Pigmen were dead and he had his gold, ten nuggets, a sword, and an ingot. He hadn't needed that much, but he couldn't risk leaving any of them alive. They wouldn't stop going for him until either they were all dead or he was. He relaxed only for a moment before heading to the portal as fast as he could, before a Ghast or Magma Cube could find him. He jumped into the purple screen and waited as it twisted and warped around him, bringing back home. He stumbled out of the portal and shook his head, swearing that he would have to beat the shit out of Jack later, no matter how much younger the boy was. This was all his fault as far as Geoff was concerned. Yeah, he was definitely kicking Jack's ass the first chance he got.

\----------

It was nightfall by the time Geoff returned to camp, and he was sore and exhausted. He didn't even acknowledge the others as he walked into camp, instead opting to walk right past them and into his tent, where he collapsed face down on his bed.

"Did you get what you needed?" Grif asked, walking up to him. "Sarge has been riding my ass all night." Geoff held out the bag of gold and dropped it before returning to his attempts to either smother himself or pass out. Grif picked the bag up and opened it looking inside before nodding. "We're going to get the ceremony ready," he said. "Get cleaned up and meet us at The Tower."

"Whatever you say, asshole," he said, not moving until well after Grif had left. He forced himself up with a groan and went to clean himself up, getting changed into a fresh tunic and trousers before meeting them over by The Tower. His entire team was gathered there, Jack included, and he shot the boy a murderous glare because, once again, this was all Jack's fault. Jack was completely unfazed by this, however, and instead just offered Geoff a friendly smile. They were all positioned around a small basin of water, lit only by a single torch. When Geoff reached them he was handed the torch and a small stone bowl with some of his gold in it. He took them and held the torch beneath the bowl, watching as the gold began to melt.

"We are gathered here," Sarge started, going over the Rite of The Hunt, "before The Tower, before Fire, before The Hunters of Old, to see a boy take his first steps towards becoming a man. We ask that you take this gold, and show us what he has to kill in order to join our ranks. Make sure it's something big, like a rhinoceros, or a mammoth, or a rhinocermammoth."

"Sir I don't think those are a thing," Simmons said.

"Nonsense Simmons!" Sarge said. "They're absolutely real. Not like Grif's made up Pumas or Walruses." Geoff shook his head, opting to ignore their nonsense, and from the looks of it it seemed as though Jack and Lopez were ignoring them as well. Once the gold was melted Geoff let it drop into the water, holding his breathe as he watched it harden into something large with far too many legs.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He asked once it finished. A spider. He had to hunt a fucking spider. Well, at least it wasn't a snake.

\------------

It had been nearly a month since The Tower had told him to go after a spider and Geoff still hadn't found it yet, a spider set apart by golden eyes. He had taken a sword with him and set off into the forest, waiting and watching for any spider he could find. But each and every one had been perfectly ordinary, much to Geoff's annoyance. It had taken him a month of searching before it occurred to him that he may, in fact, be after a cave spider. Which made the whole thing much harder in Geoff's mind. Needlessly hard. How was he supposed to kill a giant spider if it was both poisonous and surrounded by other monsters. Regardless, he had to do this, so he went down into the cave to hunt for his spider, armed only with a sword and without so much as a torch to light his way. He really was going to have to kick Jack's ass for this.

Once he entered the caves he felt as though something was pulling him, similar to the feeling he had when he first met Jack. His hunch about the cave must have been correct, and of The Tower really was guiding him then who was he to argue. He followed the pull, all the way into an abandoned mine, and then it stopped rather suddenly. Geoff felt suddenly anxious, and he backed up into a corner, looking around for something that might tell him where else to go. In the distance he saw a flash of gold, what looked like eyes, and he realized it must have been his spider. Not hesitating for a second he lunged forward, only to have his feet tangle up in web. He cursed as he fell flat on his face, which alerted the spider to him.

It was massive, larger than any cave spider he had seen before, and it was greener too, with almost a shine to its natural armor. It crept towards him slowly, venom dripping from its fangs, and he shivered, holding onto his sword tight and keeping it hidden beneath him. As soon as the spider was in range he thrust his sword up and into its belly, and the creature died with a guttural hiss. Geoff was breathing hard, his heart racing in his chest, and it took him a minute to calm down enough to cut himself free of the web. Once he was free he carved out the spider's eyes and pocketed the gold orbs. He harvested its silk glands as well and before he left decided to take some of its armor for himself, grabbing key pieces. Even if it didn't work as armor, it could make a fine trophy. He placed everything in a bag and left the cave as soon as he could, not willing to risk anything else coming after him.


	4. Hanging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Ryan. Leave a review if you like it.

After three weeks of running errands for anyone who would let him Ryan had finally found a job helping to transport lumber, though he still didn't feel secure enough to move out of the inn. He was looking, though, and the innkeeper was kind enough to not seem bothered by Ryan's prolonged tenancy, so long as he was paid it didn't matter who was in the room. Ryan only wished he could say the same about everyone else in the town. He had been there for three weeks and people still looked at him like he was some sort of outsider, because he was one and everyone knew it.

"If you ask me," the innkeeper said, passing Ryan a heavily watered down mug of beer, which Ryan drank despite his distaste for it, "you should lose the skirt."

"I didn't ask you," Ryan said, frowning at the mug before dumping the rest of it into a nearby plant before turning back to his soup and bread. "And I told you, it's a kilt. It's an important symbol of my heritage." The innkeeper took the empty mug and shook his head.

"And that heritage is why no one wants to rent or sell you a place to stay," he said, grabbing a dirty rag and beginning to clean the mug. "You're a nice kid, but people don't like outsiders around here. And all you're doing it drawing attention to yourself with that." Ryan frowned down at his plate. The man was right, he knew he was, but his kilt, its pattern, was a part of him. Back home it would have let everyone know who he was, what family line he belonged to. He was a Haywood, and the pattern on his kilt told everyone that, friends and enemies alike. He couldn't just let that go, no matter how hard it was making things for him. He would just need to try harder if he was going to find a place of his own to stay. If it became too difficult, he could always buy his way into another town and try there.

"Well I've already their drawn attention," Ryan said with a shrug. "Guess it's too late to stop now. I'll just have to find someone who cares about making money than they do about where I'm from." He smirked a little, looking at the innkeeper. "Or rather, find someone **_else_ ** who cares more about making money than they do about where I'm from."

"Hey," the man said with a laugh, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Is that any way to talk to the man who has given you a bed and a roof for the past three weeks?"

"Doesn't make what I said any less true," Ryan said as he got up, smiling. "Speaking of giving me a bed and a roof..."

"You're staying another week, aren't you?" The innkeeper asked, holding out his hand as Ryan dropped the coins in. "I'm telling you, lose the skirt."

"It's a kilt," Ryan said, getting up and heading into his room. "And I'll wear it until the day I die."

\-------

About halfway into the fourth week Ryan was lucky enough to find someone who would rent him a place to stay. Apparently something had happened to the tenant before him, earlier that week, and the woman who owned the small hut, an elderly woman who was blind in one eye and half blind in the other, was willing to offer it to anyone who would pay the price and keep the hut clean. Past that she didn't care who Ryan was or what he did, so long as nothing was illegal.

Ryan was so ecstatic at finally having a place of his own he didn't even care that he had overpaid the innkeeper. He packed up what little belongings he had, wished the man luck as he left the inn, and headed for his new home, taking a shortcut through the square. Which was unusually crowded considering how close it was to sundown. Usually everyone would be heading home by now, in case of any monsters coming out at night, but instead the square was full of people, some on their own and some in families.

"What's going on?" Ryan asked the nearest person, a man who looked to be about twenty years older than Ryan.

"Execution," the man said, nodding towards the dead center of the square. Ryan lifted himself up onto his toes and caught a glance of a gallows, one he had passed by multiple times but had never seen in use. Standing atop the scaffolding was an executioner, wearing a black hood with eye holes cut in it, and a man with his arms tied behind his back and his legs bound at his knees and ankles. Ryan swallowed, fixated as the executioner walked over and threw a yellow hood over the man's head.

"What did he do?" Ryan asked. Jorgia didn't do executions, not often at least. Usually families took care of their own problems, and most people died to feuds over land or livestock.

"Thief," the man said. "That's what the yellow hood means. Yellow for thieves, Red for the violent, Brown for a runaway slave, and Black for people who help criminals escape justice." Ryan licked his lips, barely breathing as he watched the man be shoved towards the awaiting noose, watched as it was slipped over his head and pulled tight. The executioner stepped back, walked over to the lever, and took it in both hands.

"Does the condemned have any final words?" He asked, but if the man did Ryan couldn't hear what they were before the lever was pulled and the floor dropped out from under the man. He fell maybe a foot, probably less, before the noose stopped him. The man struggled, his bound legs kicking out in a desperate attempt to gain some sort of leverage. It took about five minutes of the man slowly strangling before the body went limp and he was cut down. Once the show was over the crowd started to disperse, though Ryan was still rather stunned by what he had seen. He continued towards his new home once he regained his wits, but he was no longer excited. Instead it was replaced with an odd sort of dread, and he shivered as the shadow of the gallows fell over him as he walked by it.


	5. Rhinocermammoth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter the story will probably shift focus to mainly follow Ryan, but this idea was too funny not to do.

The Hunters weren't called upon to fight Mages often, mostly because Mages weren't an overly common threat. But every so often one would make themselves known in the worst of ways, and when this happened The Hunters were sent in to deal with the problem. The thing was, no one on Red Team expected the problem to be a massive rhinoceros mammoth hybrid, except maybe Sarge, who was too busy being indignant that they had mocked him about his Rhinocermammoth to help.

"Sarge!" Simmons said, sounding panicked as the creature tried its best to trample Grif and Grif tried somewhat to escape into a tree. "You have to do something! Use your bow!"

"Now why would I do that, Simmons?" Sarge asked. "Everyone knows Rhinocermammoths are just a figment of my imagination. Why would I want to waste precious arrows on something that doesn't exist."

"Sir I'm really sorry I doubted you," Simmons said. "But I really think you should help us fight that thing. It's going to trample Grif!" If possible this made Sarge even less willing to help out, because instead of standing and watching the monstrosity try and trample his teammate he sat down to watch it.

Meanwhile Donut and Lopez were actually trying to be useful, with Donut distracting the creature from a safe distance while Lopez crept over to Grif and dragged him away from the creature before it could notice. Jack and Geoff would have helped had then not been to dumbstruck by the fact that The Rhinocermammoth actually existed. Once Simmons had given up on trying to get Sarge to help and had started shooting his own arrows at the creature they shook themselves free of their stupor.

"Come with me," Geoff said to Jack. "I have a plan." He took off away from the creature and into the forest, his new armor helping him blend in with the greenery. Jack followed close behind Geoff, only stopping when he stopped.

"What do you want me to do?" Jack asked.

"Find every Creeper you can and lead them to me," he said. "Then I'm going to lead them to the creature." Jack's eyes went wide and he stared at Geoff.

"Geoff that's suicide!" He said. "Either they'll blow you up or you'll be trampled."

"I know what I'm going, Jack," Geoff said. "Just trust me on this, alright?" Jack didn't look convinced but he nodded and ran into the forest. Geoff swallowed and waited for him to return with as many creepers as he could find. It didn't take long, and soon enough Jack came running back, pursued by five Creepers. "Get into the trees!" Geoff said as he took off running, drawing the Creeper's attention away from Jack and onto himself. He ran through the forest as fast as he could and back to the creature. He swallowed, drawing his bow and arrow, and took aim at the beast, shooting it near one of its eyes. It reared up in pain, letting out a chilling cry, before charging at him. Geoff stood still, waiting for it to be close enough. Behind him he could hear the Creepers coming closer, and when he heard them start to hiss and once the creature was within range he jumped out of the way. The blast from the creepers blew him further than he had jumped, and when he hit the ground he blacked out, the last thing he remembered was his head ringing.

\---------

When he came to his head was still ringing, and the smell of cooked meat filled the air. He sat up with a groan, and felt arms helping him up. He opened his eyes and saw Jack kneeling next to him, smiling.

"You asshole," Jack said with a laugh. "It worked though. How did you know the spider armor would shield most of the blast."

"I didn't?" Geoff said, earning him a punch from Jack. "Hey quit it! It worked, didn't it? Is it dead?"

"Yeah it's dead," Jack said, helping him up. "Sarge is throwing a feast from its best parts." Geoff pulled a face, looking over to the piles of roasted Rhinocermammoth meat.

"Maybe later," he said, letting Jack help him over to the rest of their team.


	6. Crime and Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting back to Ryan's side of the story, and we'll probably stick with him for a while.
> 
> Also things are pretty sucky for Ryan this chapter.

The sun had set about half an hour earlier, and Ryan was just now making it back into town. He was on edge, looking around for any monsters that could be about. He could have sworn he had heard a zombie out in the woods, though he didn't pause long enough to check. The undead sent a shiver down his spine, and he could happily go his entire life without having to face one of them.

The sound of shattering glass made Ryan freeze and, curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to investigate. Sticking close to the shadows he crept slowly towards the sound, tense and unsure of what he would find. He froze when he saw a human figure breaking the glass of a shop, the faint moonlight barely illuminating it. At first he thought it may be a zombie, but when the figure stepped back out of the shadows Ryan could see it was only a man. Only a thief. His gut reaction was to just ignore it and head home, let someone else deal with the thief later. But there was a voice in his head telling him to do the right thing, telling him to stop the thief, so he took his axe off his back and stepped forward.

"Hey!" He shouted, twisting the axe in his hand and stepping towards the man. "What do you think you're doing?" The man stopped, looked at Ryan, and tried to turn to run. In an instant Ryan decided to give chase and tackled the man. The man twisted, tried to stab at Ryan with a knife, but Ryan grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully, causing the man to cry out and drop the blade. The man struggled a bit more, and gritting his teeth Ryan hit him hard with the handle of his axe, hard enough to split the skin on his head and draw blood, though the man wasn't knocked out. He was too preoccupied with stopping the man that he didn't even notice that five soldiers had seen and surrounded them.

"Don't move," a voice commanded, not that it needed to. The sword now pressed against the back of his neck was more than enough to cause Ryan to freeze. He went dead still, not even daring to let go of the thief. He liked his head right where it was. Once he was satisfied that Ryan wasn't going to try and run away the soldier ripped Ryan off the thief and forced him to kneel, moving his sword to press the tip against Ryan's throat.

"What happened here?" One of the other soldiers, the leader judging by his more ornate armor, asked. "Tell me everything you can. I want a full report." Ryan opened his mouth to talk but the soldier holding him down twisted his blade and the words died as a whimper in Ryan's throat. Seeing his chance, the thief spoke first.

"I was walking home, good Sir," he started, "when this man, this thief, attacked me. You can see where his axe struck me," he motioned to his head. "He was robbing the store just over there, the one with the broken windows. I shouted to him to stop, but he attacked me instead."

"That's a lie!" Ryan said, ignoring the blade to his throat. "I didn't..."

"Didn't what?" The soldier asked, and Ryan shrank under his gaze. "Didn't attack him? So he struck himself with that axe, then?" There was something in the way he looked down at Ryan, something cold and familiar that he couldn't quite place.

"I'm not the thief," Ryan said, unable to deny that he had attacked the man. "He is. I tried to stop him, that's all."

"He's lying, Sir," the thief said. "Look at him. Look at how he dresses. He's just some outsider lying to save his own skin." That was it. That was where Ryan had seen that look before. He was an outsider to this kingdom, and he had been since he had first set foot on the dock. It hadn't taken him long to learn that the people of this town distrusted him for that, but it had never occurred to him until this moment that he could suffer for it. He shrank back a bit more, suddenly feeling very surrounded. For a moment he wondered if the soldiers would open his throat then and there but no, he knew what happened to criminals. He had seen plenty enough of them hang to know what was awaiting him. The soldier who had been holding the blade to Ryan's neck sheathed his sword and with the help of one of his fellow hauled Ryan to his feet, where the leader shackled his wrists and ankles together.

"I didn't..." Ryan whimpered, feeling sick as he stared down at the chains.

"Save it for the court," he said, and Ryan shut his mouth, staying silent as they led him to the jail.

\-------

The night spent in the jail was the worst night of Ryan's life, and he couldn't get it out of his head that it may be the last night of his life as well. The moon trickled in through the barred window, casting a wretched shadow over the cell's inhabitant. They hadn't taken his shackles off, and the bindings were cold and rough against his skin, the heavy chains rattling whenever he moved. He tried to lay down on the wood bench and sleep, but his heart wouldn't stop racing in his chest, and he couldn't get comfortable no matter how he shifted.

Outside his window, two ravens sat perched in a tree, calling to one another. Ryan only heard the calls, mostly, and he forced himself not to listen more closely, but from what he picked up they were talking about their next meal. About him. He covered his ears and curled up into a tight ball, shaking. He wasn't ready to die, not like this. He didn't want to hang for this, and for a moment he considered finding a way to escape, if only to force a guard to cut him down with their sword. Surely that would be faster than being left out to strangle for minutes while the entire square watched.

He stayed curled up until morning, when two guards came to bring him to court. Ryan didn't fight them, just stared down at the ground while they led him into the court room and shoved him behind the stand. He looked up at the judge, trembling, and didn't even notice that the thief had been brought in as well, sitting off to the side as a witness.

"James Haywood?" The judge said, reading over the papers and glancing down at Ryan. Ryan wet his lips and swallowed.

"It's Ryan, Your Honor," he said, barely loud enough for the judge to hear him.

"The papers say it's James," the judge said, glaring at Ryan for speaking against him.

"I know it does," Ryan said, his voice shaking. "But it's Ryan. In my kingdom we use the middle name. The first is honorary."

"And what kingdom is that?" The judge set the papers down, giving Ryan his full attention. "Because we certainly don't do that in Nyntando." Ryan cursed himself and shrank back, certain he was going to be hanged before his trial had already begun.

"Jorgia," he said. "I came here about six months ago. To find my own way."

"As a thief," the judge said. Before Ryan could defend himself he picked up the papers again and started reading. "You stand accused of theft and assault. This gentleman claims that you attacked him when he tried to stop you."

"I didn't," Ryan said, feeling sick. He could tell that the judge didn't believe him, and he didn't know why he was protesting anymore. It didn't matter if he pleaded his innocence or not they were going to hang him anyway.

"He's lying," the thief said. "You saw my blood on his axe, he attacked me."

"I did do that," Ryan said quietly, giving up on any hope he had of surviving. He wanted to just curl up and disappear, and he was shaking so badly his chains rattled. He could hear the thief tell the judge what happened, tell him the lie about how he had tried to stop Ryan from robbing the shop and was attacked for it. The judge asked the soldiers next, not bothering to get Ryan's story because why would he? Ryan was just some outsider. After asking everyone else but Ryan what had happened, the judge turned to the condemned.

"I'll give you a choice," he said, causing Ryan to look up at him. "You're young, and killing you would be a wasted. You can continue to plead your innocence, and hang for the crimes you committed. Or you can confess, and be sold into slavery. Which do you chose?" Ryan swallowed, looking back down and playing with the chains holding his shackles together. A braver man would have told the judge to go to hell with that deal, a braver man would have continued to plead his innocence.

"I confess."

Ryan wasn't a braver man.


End file.
